After a week of playing catch-up from an Austin pilgramage, I finally made it to the Muse Scripts box at the Carrboro post office. Nothing makes me happier than reaching into that box and pulling out a big ole glossy Texas Monthly. I dig that senior editor John Spong used to babysit my husband at the Westlake Oaks compound.
Ever play the game where you plop the magazine open and read only the article on that page? Nothing maintains the allure of an issue like taking it one randomly selected piece at a time. Maybe you can tell I was one of the kids that saved some candy for later.
This afternoon I dug into the magazine and up popped a photo of Roland Martin in a pinstripe suit and a lilac tie. It had been less than twenty-four hours since I returned from the Triangle Area Freelancers meeting so falling upon an article on being a multimedia journalist seemed fateful.
In the interview with Pamela Colloff, Roland Martin talks about Tiger Wood's father's remark, "'Even when I'm gone, Tiger will always hear my voice in his head at any moment in his life.'"
The legacy of what we tell our kids and what our parents told us is Texas size.
This week I traveled to the North Carolina Administrative Offices of the Courts and talked to parents about what they should tell their children about tobacco.
I told them about how tricky the topic of mortality can be for the younger set (9-11). By the way, that's the age of initiation for smoking, so if your youngin falls into that group, it's time to get your game on.
A friend recently shared the story with me about how her son, who is in the aforementioned age group, cut through a parental admonition about dying young with the eager anticipation of a premature death for a chance at early admission to heaven.
The day my mom told me she knew I had been smoking cigarettes, we were driving home in her light green clunker and my favorite song "Blinded by the Light" was on WKLO. (That keyboard intro still gives me chills.) My calliope came crashing down, alright. She gave me the usual, "Wait until your father comes home."
My father let me agonize in dreadful anticipation through most of the meal. His words were simple: "In our house we value our health first." Because I had a headache from the five or six cigarettes I'd smoked that afternoon, round one ended rather quickly.
What are you telling your children about tobacco? What are they saying? I'd love to hear.
I also want to hear what you remember your parents saying when you hear their voices in your head, on any topic.
Mama always told me not to look into the eyes of the sun.
But Mama, that's where the fun is...
Bruce Springsteen, "Blinded by the Light"
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